


Martyr

by wesleyfanfiction_archivist



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-02-16
Updated: 2004-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-31 10:30:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6466777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wesleyfanfiction_archivist/pseuds/wesleyfanfiction_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wesley stays behind to fight the Wolfram and Hart zombies instead of Gunn during the Season 4 episode "Habeas Corpses"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Martyr

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Versaphile, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [WesleyFanfiction.net](http://fanlore.org/wiki/WesleyFanFiction.Net). Deciding that it needed to have a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact the e-mail address on [WesleyFanfiction.net collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wesleyfanfiction/profile).

Here he was- all alone once again. Of course, this time it had been his own choice...

They had made it as far as this office before the zombies had caught up to them and broke through the door. Fred had managed to break the handle off another door and open it, giving them an escape, but Wesley hadn't taken it. "Got it! Come on!" she'd yelled, but he hadn't. He had to stay back and fight them off in case they chased after the others. He wasn't exactly sure how zombies worked, how you became infected. Of course, he hadn't told Gunn that after he'd been bitten by one. He'd find out for himself...

So here he was. Someone had to hold them back. Gunn could've done it, but then he'd be leaving Fred behind. Wes couldn't risk that. Having to live and see her in such pain because of losing someone she loved-especially someone who wasn't him-would be unbearable. It would be much easier for him to stay behind...on all of them. He'd told Fred and Gunn as much, in much fewer words. "I'll fight them off. You can either help me, sit there and get eaten or get the hell out of here. I suggest the latter choice." 

"Damnit Wesley! Get off your hero horse and come on!" Gunn had shouted with more impatience than concern. Wesley had just given him a look that put all argument to rest. There was no arguing with Wesley Wyndham-Pryce when he meant something, and Gunn knew it.

"Get her out of here" he'd called to him as they made their way out.

"Wesley?" she'd whispered, staring at him in shock as the door closed. 

Gunn had just stared. 

"Go!"

So they had, and then they were gone. Wes was left to fend off the zombies as they stormed into the small space moments after Fred and Gunn had exited. He was left staring straight at one of them as it came up to his side, breathing its dead breath on his neck and holding its arms out to pull him into its grasp to feast. Delivering a spin kick Wes sent it on its ass. Another one came up behind him and Wes flipped the vile creature over his shoulder, dropping it to the floor at his feet and snapping its head clean off with the heel of his boot on its neck. 2 more came at him and he offed them both at once with 2 pistols he pulled from a twin set of ankle holsters As he rose up after drawing the weapons he was knocked down by a larger zombie who clubbed him over the back. He looked up in terror as the hulking thing hovered over him, ready to dive in and devour him alive. Only some quick thinking and some strong calf muscles saved him as he flipped one of the guns at his feet into his hand and shot it in the face, causing it to reel back a bit and giving him the opening he needed to get to his feet and grab the other pistol. He sent two shots to the zombie's scaley green neck before his noggin popped off. "Who's next?"

Several of them came up on him at once. He fired a round of shots, but they had no effect. He flicked his wrist and tried to ward them off with one of his handy swords, but it was useless. They were too swift and too strong. The zombies advanced and grabbed Wes, pulling him down and swarming over his flailing and struggling body like vultures prepared to dine on a carcass, which was what he in effect was at this point. They grabbed him and began to bite down. He felt their teeth digging into his flesh almost as soon as he was on the ground. Things got dark as they gathered around him, more swarming upon him every minute like as if the dinner bell had been rung. Everything was blurry, and not just because of the absence of his glasses, which he'd lost some time ago (he'd used his second paycheck from Wolfram and Hart to get Lasik...). Able to appreciate the irony even in times like this, he thought it appropriate, considering the course of his life, that he was eaten alive. Say your prayers Mr. Pryce. It's curtains for you. Well, not quite...

Suddenly he remembered something else he'd been equipped with: a bomb. He'd had a self-destruct mechanism placed on his body weaponry outfit just in case the situation became dire as this was. If he was going to go, he might as well take the smelly bastards with him. Working his free arm under his shirt he reached for the button under his right breast pocket and pressed it. KABOOM!

It was all so bloody ironic.

It would all be over in an instant. He'd save so many lives in his "self-destruction", and he knew it was for the greater good that he made this sacrifice. Better one dead creature without a soul than 5 million. Who would miss him anyhow? Lilah was gone, perhaps dead by now. Surely none of his former friends would. They'd probably have a celebration, if they managed to even care at all.

Then Wesley noticed something- that he'd noticed something. He wasn't dead. Just in an astronomical amount of discomfort...

The blast had propelled him backwards, so instead of being crushed under ten thousand tons of rubble he was thrown a few stories out the window and landed on the pavement. A file cabinet that had also rocketed out from the explosion smacked him right in the face as he attempted to sit up.

"Bloody... ouch." Instead of a noble death Wes was left with nothing but an incredible headache and what he was sure were a few broken bones. After recovering from the unconsciousness he slowly and laboredly rose to his feet, stumbling up on the curb as he looked up to see the Wolfram and Hart building still standing, perfectly intact but for a blown out window. "They just don't quit!" he mused. Breathing heavily through a broken rib and bleeding quite a lot, he forced himself down the street to look for any sign of what had happened...

Back at the Hyperion, the Fang Gang had managed to make it back, having retrieved what they'd gone to the law firm to find in the first place: Connor.

"Dad?" 

Angel had ignored his son and walked straight into his office, setting his sword down and going in.

Cordelia came up to Connor. "You're safe..." She hugged him. Opening her eyes she saw someone walk in. "What happened to him?"

"Does it hurt?" Fred looked at Gunn's wound with concern. She hoped he was ok, and that the bite wouldn't have any...unwanted effects.

"It's ok" he responded. Gunn's attention was caught by the entrance of Wesley, who looked strangely enough like he'd been blown out of a fifth floor window onto a city street and been hit in the head by a flying file cabinet. "Well well."

"Well hello" chirped Lorne, who had been sipping a drink when the group had popped in from the White Room. "If it isn't smoked turkey."

"Wesley..." Fred was amazed to see him, and a little overjoyed. She was sure he hadn't made it out. "What happened? We heard an explosion as we were coming up the stairs..."

"I had a bit of a mishap. I think I'm going to rest now..." 

ith that Wes dropped to the floor.

"Oh gosh!" Fred hurried over to Wesley, kneeling over and examining his battered and obviously very exhausted body.

Gunn was not pleased by Fred's abandoning of his caretaking. "Hey! I thought I was gettin' the medical attention."

"He's really pretty injured" said Fred. "We should probably take him to the hospital..."

"Take him upstairs" Angel said, coming out of his office looking rather stern. Cordelia has just exited the office and looked like she was about to faint. "We'll take care of him. Wesley's been in the hospital enough lately... Gunn, get him up to one of the empty rooms."

"What?" Gunn argued. "I'm hurtin' here! Why do I have to haul his ass up the steps?"

"Charles!"

"Do it" Angel barked. 

"Fine, but I'd better get some major boo boo kissing for this..." Looking at Fred, he smirked. Grumbling and getting up, Gunn went over to where Wes lay and dragged him up the staircase by the foot, making sure to let his head hit every step on the way up...

When Wes awoke, he found himself on top of a bed in one of the many rooms at the hotel. His head was killing him, as was everything else. He couldn't remember exactly what he was doing there. Wait, what was he doing there? Shouldn't he be dead by now? Last he remembered everything had been dark. It had all been quiet and for once he was at peace. Now everything was fuzzy. Why wasn't he in heaven, or hell or whevever he was supposed to go? As he opened his eyes the dim light from the room hit them and he started to make out the outline of a person standing over him, a woman. "Fred?"

"Hey there sleepyhead." 

Maybe he was in heaven. There was his angel, his saving grace.

For the first time in a while, he was really happy to see someone. "Shouldn't you be downstairs tending to the wounded?" he asked. Not that he was complaining about her being there.

"Oh, they don't need me down there. Charles is fine, just complain' a lot, and I think Angel would be better off left alone. He's havin' one of his moods..."

"You mean the perpetually bad one he's always in?" Wes questioned with a slight smirk.

Fred laughed. "I think it's a little intensified tonight..."

"Everything is" said Wesley. "Emotions tend to run high during the apocolypse. He's probably just feeling the pressure like the rest of us..." Indeed, things were tense in the A.I. camp. It was like a powder keg ready to explode with just one little nudge. Wes could tell that Angel was struggling to keep it together, and he wasn't getting much help...

"I think he's mad at Cordy for some reason." She looked away for a moment. Fred wasn't sure why the two had seemed to be somewhat at odds lately, but things were definitely...tense. "I wonder if something happened..."

"What do you mean?" Wesley wondered. Sitting up with great difficulty, he leaned forward and looked at her attentively, as if it was the most intriguing topic in the world. He didn't really give a damn about Angel and Cordelia's relationship issues. He was just delighted to hear Fred speak, and to watch her. Though if it was really troubling her, he would force himself to care halfway.

"Well," she said. "I just... I've just been sensin' something, you know, between them. I think maybe there might be...feelings." Sitting down on the bed she looked at Wesley as if searching for answers in his tired face. He knew Cordy and Angel better than anybody that she knew of, and Fred figured Wes might have some insight into the two champions.

Wesley was quick to confirm her suspiscion. "There are definitely feelings." He silently cleared his throat and put his hands on his lap. His blood-covered clothes were replaced by light blue pajamas he didn’t recognize. They were comfortable though...

Fred nodded. "I thought so. I had a...feeling." Smiling a bit, she edged a bit closer to Wesley, who was now reclined against the headboard. Reaching over him, she grabbed a wet towel from a basin on the bedside table and put it to his head. "So what happened back there? You look like you got run over by a bus."

"Actually it was the street itself" he said.

"What?" Fred was confused. Was he delirious? Did he have a concussion? Maybe a hospital wasn't such a bad idea...

"Long story. Zombies, bomb, window, pavement, cabinet..." It was all still a little muttled to him, but Wes was beginning to recall the details of his "mishap".

"That was really brave, what you did for me and Gunn back at Wolfram and Hart" she said sincerely. Wes had sacrificed himself for them and for her so many times she couldn't count. Talk about selfless...

"Don't mention it" he told her.

Smiling, Fred leaned a little closer and pressed the cloth to his brow. Wesley cringed at the pressure applied to his sore forehead. Frowning, Fred removed the cloth and backed away. "Are you alright?"

"Ahh, fine..." he assured her. "Anyway, it was nothing. It had to be done."

Fred supressed a chuckle. "There you go doing what needs to be done again." Leaning forward on the side of the bed now, Fred eyed the noble brit. “I guess someone has to. That’s why it’s needed...”

“Right” Wes smiled. It seemed like forever that they just stared at each other, each thinking about what the other meant to them. Slowly the distance between them decreased as they inched closer to each other. Wesley scooted on sore hips to where he was sitting next to Fred on the edge of the bed. “I-...”

Now the distance was becoming smaller and smaller. Their eyes never left each other as they went in to kiss. Her sweet lips were almost touching his when, abruptly, he drew away. “We almost...”

“I know.” Fred wanted to feel terrible for having those kinds of feelings about Wesley, but she didn’t. She wasn’t ashamed of that. Things were complicated, but that fact was not.

“You should go” he told her, backing away and getting up from the bed to open the door. “It’s late, and I’m sure they do need you.” God, how he wanted to tell her how much he needer her.

“Alright” she agreed. “Good night Wesley.” As she got up his eyes followed her across the room. Reaching for a glass of water to pull himself out of the trance, Wesley nodded after taking a sip. “Good night Fred. I hope I see you tommorow.”

And with that she had gone. As the door shut he shuddered at the thought of a sleepless night in this cold room with only himself and his thoughts. Even the trists with Lilah had let him feel something to fill the vacuum and to distract him from the not-so-pleasant thoughts that plagued his mind when he was by himself. But even though he’d missed his chance finally having what he’d wanted more than anything, Wesley knew he’d done the right thing. He’d let her go. He realized that it didn’t matter whether he had her, as long as she was happy. Sure, he would kill and die for her, but it was something more, much different and deeper to live for her. That, he thought, was the mark of real love.

There’s hope for you yet, Mr. Pryce...


End file.
